


Indiana Winchester and the Fist of Destiny

by loveinadoorway



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-10-16
Updated: 2009-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinadoorway/pseuds/loveinadoorway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yeees. I dared. Deandiana Jones hard at work, trying to find the clues that might lead him to the legendary Fist of Destiny, with Castiel as the damsel in distress slash love interest (oooh, the slashy awards… best angel slash damsel… LOL!).</p><p>EDIT 29.06.2015: This story will not be continued and will remain unfinished!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_**Indiana Winchester and the Fist of Destiny 1 &2/?**_  
 **[](http://i466.photobucket.com/albums/rr27/typogra/DeanBanner1.jpg)  
Disclaimer:** At the end of the day, they’ll be sliding under a closing stone gate, grab their hats and limp back to the Kripkeeper, a little dusty, a little scratched, but otherwise just five by five.  
 **Rating:** NC-17 (later, not yet. notoriously takes me forever to get to the porn)  
 **Genre:** slash  
 **Spoilers:** none  
 **Word Count:** ~2806  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Dean/Cas, Bobby, Zachariah, probably at least mentioning of John and Sam  
 **Warnings:** language, booze, man-on-man action, whips, evil cults, the lot  
 **Summary:** Yeees. I dared. Deandiana Jones hard at work, trying to find the clues that might lead him to the legendary Fist of Destiny, with Castiel as the damsel in distress slash love interest (oooh, the slashy awards… best angel slash damsel… LOL!).  
Written for the AU/Fusion challenge at [](http://deancastiel.livejournal.com/profile)[**deancastiel**](http://deancastiel.livejournal.com/)  
The artwork is still a work in progress, done by the lovely [](http://wingfrog.livejournal.com/profile)[**wingfrog**](http://wingfrog.livejournal.com/)

In the sweltering heat of the Javanese jungle, Indiana Winchester was hacking his way towards the temple that should be almost within his reach.  
Yes, another temple, another jungle, more hacking of the machete, more sweating, definitely probably more bleeding later. In other words, business as usual for Dr. Indiana Winchester, eminent archaeologist, youngest tenured professor in the States and retriever of antique treasures.  
He sighed wearily and adjusted his battered fedora.

A mosquito landed on his arm and he swatted it with a snarled expletive. He forcefully ‘parked’ the machete in a tree and wiped the sweat off his face with his sleeve.  
Sometimes, his day job looked more appealing than at other times.  
The other times being of course those times when he actually had to work in his day job.  
Grading term papers. Talking to students. Putting up with the ill-concealed envy of the staff.  
Oh, yes, Indy thought with clenched teeth, and let’s not forget the Ohio rain, which seemed to always loom behind him, wait until he got out of the car or left a building to make sure he got soaking wet in no time flat.  
Indy shuddered and resumed his hacking, a little bit more determined and a little less pissed off than before.

He wasn’t sure if he was being followed and his guide had run off two days ago.  
Not that he’d expected otherwise, really.  
The local lore on this temple was plain scary and it had taken him a lot of money and all of his considerable persuasive powers to find a guide in the first place. The pompous, shifty bastard had immediately endeared himself to Indy by trying to lead him straight in the opposite direction of the temple and lying through his teeth when Indy confronted him about it.  
Furthermore, the guy talked incessantly and had that certain know-it-all attitude that brought Indy’s hackles up like nothing else. No, Zachariah was no big loss – unless the fucker went and brought the natives on Indy’s trail. Or the authorities, once Indy got back to civilization.  
He wouldn’t put it past the man.

Indy took the fedora off, wiped the sweat from his brow again and ran a hand through his dirty blond hair.  
Suddenly, he heard a scream, then another one.  
He tensed and carefully made his way towards it, gun drawn.  
In a small clearing, a white man was bound to an old statue. Several natives were circling him, slashing at him with curved knives, obviously following some sort of ritual.  
The man was a little older than Indy himself, with dark hair. He was wearing, oddly enough, a dark suit, complete with a bright blue tie and over it all a tan trench coat, all but slashed to ribbons. He was bleeding copiously from those numerous slashes, but it hadn’t been him who screamed. His face was very pale and drawn and his lips pressed so firmly together they showed white as well.  
Indy thought the scream must have been part of the ritual and it had to have come from the priest, whose face was garishly painted.  
Indy sighed.  
There he went again, straight into more trouble, as usual. Which he needed like a hole in the head, given his mission, he reminded himself.

He stepped into the clearing, gun tucked into the back of his pants.  
”Nobody told me that today was slash a white guy day,” he said, smiling at the priest. He complemented the remark with the only word in the local dialect he knew, which was easily the most colorful insult he had ever heard anywhere. Which, of course, explained why it had stuck so easily in his memory.  
The priest yelled something unintelligible in his native tongue and then, predictably enough, all hell broke lose around Indy.

He ducked and shot two of the men, while the remaining two rushed him. One of them threw a rock at him.  
A rock? Get out of town!  
Unfortunately, though, it hit Indy’s hand hard and the gun went flying.  
In one fluid, practiced movement, he ripped the whip from his hip, uncoiled it and hit the oncoming men hard. They fell back a few steps, unsure of what to do.  
Indy lashed out with the whip again and it caught the priest around the neck. Indy pulled the man towards him, then knocked him unconscious without further ado.  
The two other men tucked tail and ran.

Indy walked up to the bound man.  
Attractive bastard, he thought. Extremely blue eyes and a nice face…. And just for once, not a student and thus not off limits. Okay, he was wounded, but maybe the cuts were only shallow and Indy Nightingale might… just might get lucky this time after some more or less gentle ministrations.  
He cut through the ropes and caught the man as he crumpled.  
”Whoa, easy,” Indy said. “Gotcha now, you’ll be okay.”  
Electric blue eyes locked with green. The man reached up with a shaking hand and ran his thumb over Indy’s stubbly cheek.  
Indy felt a strange pull, which prompted him to lean down and briefly captured the stranger’s lip with his own. He broke the kiss off almost immediately and asked: “Hey, you okay?”  
A muffled groan was the only answer, then the man quite simply fainted.  
Perfect, just perfect.

They couldn’t stay there, the natives would most certainly return.  
Indy grabbed the man in a fireman’s grip and hoisted him onto his shoulders.  
Why did he always end up rescuing the damsel in distress, even if there wasn’t even any damsel around?  
He was making his way in the direction of the old temple as fast as he could with an unconscious man over his shoulder. Improbable though it was, there was something like an old path leading from the statue towards the spot where Indy presumed the temple to be.  
It was overgrown, but still basically discernible and didn’t require as much hacking with the machete as his previous access route had.  
He figured the temple was their best bet, as no native would go within a mile of it.  
He grinned when a structure loomed ahead of him that was, in spite of centuries of jungle growing over it, definitely not organic in origin.  
Easy as pie, easy as pie.  
He put Sleeping Beauty down and searched for the entrance, which luckily was fairly easy to find.  
Thanks to the translated clue he got from Bobby Brody, he could open the stone gate without any problems at all.  
A simple matter of pressing the right knobs and turning the right pieces of the carved surface around. After all those years of hunting relics, artifacts and other assorted treasures, first together with his father, then on his own, it never ceased to amaze him how such primitive technology remained operational for centuries, occasionally even for millennia.

Inside the temple, it was cool and damp.  
He propped Sleeping Beauty up against a wall. The man’s wounds were shallow, but he had obviously lost a lot of blood. The bleeding had mostly stopped by itself.  
For now, there was nothing Indy could do, so he made the guy as comfortable as he could and then started exploring the temple.  
He pushed the fedora backwards a bit and took a closer look at some of the carvings on the wall. Fascinating stuff. Very lurid, very explicitly sexual and at times extremely disturbing.  
The temple had been built by a cult long vanished from the face of the earth and Indy wouldn’t have bothered checking it out if it hadn’t been for a very weird and highly far-fetched connection that made no sense at all unless you believed that the supernatural was very real. Which Indy didn’t use to, but recent events had caused him to question his beliefs, or the lack thereof.  
So here he stood, in the middle of a jungle at the end of the world, trying to find another piece of the jigsaw puzzle that might, if assembled properly, lead him to the Fist of Destiny.

Indy double-checked the carving against the drawings Bobby had given him.  
Yes, that was the winged lizard, holding the sun in his claws. He brushed some dirt and dried leaves off the next panel.  
As Bobby had predicted, it showed him a heap of writhing people, engaging in some of the weirdest sex positions he had ever seen. He chuckled appreciatively and vowed to give at least half of them a try one of these days.  
The third panel was a detailed carving of a temple dancer. Bobby had told him it held the mechanism that would open the compartment with the next piece of his jigsaw puzzle.

Indy sighed, then placed both palms on the dancer’s ample bosom, suddenly glad nobody was there to witness him fondling a stone carving. He pressed his thumb down on both nipples simultaneously as per Bobby’s instruction (not that it was such a terrible ordeal, Indy thought with a smile) and heard stone sliding against stone.  
A drawer opened to his right. Inside, there was a small package, wrapped in oilcloth.  
Indy took it out and put it in his pocket after trying to discern the content briefly by touch. It felt like some small statue, but the thick oilcloth effectively blocked any more detailed tactile exploration.  
He would examine it later, preferably when he was back in his hotel in Yogyakarta or maybe not even until he was safely inside the waiting lounge at Jakarta airport.

A groan drew him back to the main hall, where he had left Sleeping Beauty.  
Beauty was awake and didn’t look too happy.  
Indy sauntered over – no, not trying to impress anyone with his sang-froid - and said: “Better now? I’m Indiana Winchester, by the way.”  
”Castiel Scott.” Beauty held out his hand and Indy shook it gingerly. “I… I’m a singer. In The Green Room in Jakarta.”  
”A fucking nightclub singer? How the hell did you manage to end the fuck up tied to a statue in the middle of goddamned nowhere, you freakin’ genius?” Indy asked.  
Castiel had winced with every swearword Indy had used.  
”I was abducted from the nightclub two days ago and dragged here. I don’t know why. I have never seen these men before. And could you maybe not blaspheme quite as much?”  
‘Blaspheme’? Jumpin’ Jaysus on a pogo stick, where did the man think they were? Some soiree in the American embassy or what?  
”Shrinking violet much?” Indy snarked, not much impressed now that Beauty was conscious and looking more like a prissy little bastard with every passing minute.

That thought was strengthened further by the utterly appalled and disgusted look that Castiel cast around the temple.  
”Where are we?” he asked, while he gingerly probed some of the cuts on his chest.  
”In an ancient temple, hiding from your friends.”  
”But… but those old temples are so dangerous! The people in ancient times, they… they built traps and… and all sorts of nastinesses! And there are insects and snakes!”  
”Well, pet, calm down, I’m a professional, I know what I’m doing. This temple is safe as houses.” With that, Indy patted the wall affectionately.  
Of course, the tiny arrow had to whiz by out of the blue right on cue and bury itself in Indy’s fedora.

Castiel looked like he was going to say something unbearably smug that would lead to Indy having to hit the man and hit him hard at that, when the earth rumbled and rolled suddenly.  
The singer shrieked, actually shrieked like a girl and scampered to a doorway, placed his hands on the sides and stood there with closed eyes, devoutly and meekly awaiting his fate.  
Indy almost laughed out loud. In case of an earthquake, stand in between the doorjamb and be safe? Not really. Not here, not in this temple, not when Mount Merapi was just a few miles away and the rumble and roll was a daily occurrence.  
Well, at least it had been enough to distract Beauty’s attention from the dart.

“Come on, pet, time to leave.”  
”Where are we going?”  
”To Yogyakarta, then to Jakarta in the morning. C’mon, hurry up.”  
”Are you certain it is safe?” Castiel asked, with a slightly obstinate head tilt, not budging an inch.  
”Safe as houses, like I said.”  
”You said you’re a professional. What of?”  
”I’m an archaeologist. And I have a certain… shall we say… expertise in these things.”  
Beauty seemed satisfied with that answer and meekly followed Indy outside.

They hadn’t gone more than a few steps when the two men who had fled after Indy knocked the priest out rushed at them from the jungle.  
Now, that was unexpected.  
Experience teaches that men who run usually do not return, but these two obviously were the exception that made rules so much fun.  
Indy ducked out of their way and immediately engaged the one on the left.  
It didn’t take more than just a few expert punches to knock him out.  
Indy turned immediately to attack the second man, but came face to face with a sight he hadn’t expected in a million years.  
Beauty was dishing it out viciously.  
It was a gorgeous sight.

The singer was hitting the attacker with deliberate, tight, mean punches, face grim, like an avenging angel in some renaissance painting. He was utterly beautiful, with blazing eyes and controlled elegant movements.  
Indy stood back and enjoyed the show.  
The attacker crumbled to the floor and Castiel lithely danced back and rolled his shoulders.  
”Nice work, Cas,” said Indy appreciatively.  
”You couldn’t have lent a hand, could you,” came the slightly acerbic reply.  
”Nah, you were doin’ good, didn’t want to cramp your style, pet.”  
”Quit calling me pet. I am not some small, furry, inconsequential animal,” growled Beauty and Indy felt that sound travel all through his body, right down to the interesting bit.  
Very sexy.  
Very, very sexy.  
Who would have thought?  
Beauty had teeth and claws and a growl that could melt your bones.

They were walking through the jungle. Indy pointed out the odd snake or huge as fuck spider to Beauty and the singer gave them a wide berth. He had to hand it to the man, he was actually dealing really well after the initial shrieking and shrinking.  
Indy stopped every now and again to check their position with his compass and the occasional glimpses of the sun through the foliage.  
Castiel followed him silently. Indy was grateful, for the worst thing was someone who jabbered incessantly.  
Silence most of the time really was golden.  
They kept Mount Merapi on their right side and were making good progress.  
The jungle was not as dense here, probably due to some volcanic eruption a few decades back. It made walking much easier and Indy was fairly certain they would reach Yogyakarta before nightfall.

“Not far now, pet,” Indy said over his shoulder.  
”I believe I already informed you that I object to this name,” came the reply in clipped, precise tones.  
”Yeah, well, I don’t always do what I’m told. Actually, I almost never do what I’m told.”  
”Somehow, this information fails to surprise me.”  
Indy laughed and held a branch back so that it wouldn’t hit Beauty smack in the gorgeous face.  
Cas walked past him, holding himself very upright, exuding disapproval with every fiber of his being.

”God, I so want to fuck you, pet,” chuckled Indy.  
Castiel stopped short, back stiffening even further. Indy waited for the man to turn, but Cas merely resumed walking after a brief pause.  
”I do not believe we are compatible,” came the terse, cool reply.  
”Oh, never you fear, I am extremely adaptable,” said Indy and followed the singer towards the huddle of derelict huts that made up the outskirts of Yogyakarta.  
He could see more and more houses appear through the trees as they walked closer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter the third, in which there is sex – surprisingly enough, since it usually takes me forever to get there. But I felt like writing a little pwp, so here we go.

_**Indiana Winchester and the Fist of Destiny 1 &2/?**_  
 **[](http://i466.photobucket.com/albums/rr27/typogra/DeanBanner1.jpg)  
Disclaimer:** At the end of the day, they’ll be sliding under a closing stone gate, grab their hats and limp back to the Kripkeeper, a little dusty, a little scratched, but otherwise just five by five.  
 **Rating:** NC-17 (later, not yet. notoriously takes me forever to get to the porn)  
 **Genre:** slash  
 **Spoilers:** none  
 **Word Count:** ~2806  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Dean/Cas, Bobby, Zachariah, probably at least mentioning of John and Sam  
 **Warnings:** language, booze, man-on-man action, whips, evil cults, the lot  
 **Summary:** Yeees. I dared. Deandiana Jones hard at work, trying to find the clues that might lead him to the legendary Fist of Destiny, with Castiel as the damsel in distress slash love interest (oooh, the slashy awards… best angel slash damsel… LOL!).  
Written for the AU/Fusion challenge at [](http://deancastiel.livejournal.com/profile)[**deancastiel**](http://deancastiel.livejournal.com/)  
The artwork is still a work in progress, done by the lovely [](http://wingfrog.livejournal.com/profile)[**wingfrog**](http://wingfrog.livejournal.com/)

Indy propped his feet up on the rickety table and listened to the sound of Beauty taking a shower.  
Somehow, he was disappointed.  
He had thought the man would sing under the shower. After all, he was a professional singer and… never mind.  
Indy just wondered what his singing voice would sound like.  
Would it be slightly husky, would it be a tenor or maybe a rich baritone, or would it be a growly basso like Cas’ speaking voice when he got angry?

That wasn’t all he was wondering about, of course.  
He also wondered if Castiel’s body would keep the promise of sinewy goodness he had felt when he had carried Beauty, if there would be a thin, enticing trail of dark hair pointing straight down to Cas’ penis, if that organ would be nicely proportioned, if…. A lot of ifs and they all led in the same direction, namely trouble. He had had ample experience with men (and women, he was rather a take it as it comes kind of guy) and every instinct in his body was screaming to put a lot of distance between himself and the singer.  
Preferably an entire ocean and a considerable chunk of landmass.

Okay, not entirely true. Every instinct in his body said the same thing, except the one.  
What did that tell him? It had definitely been too long.  
That’s what it was. That’s all it was. Sheer hormonal need, which he could deal with.  
He wasn’t an oversexed teenager anymore, he should have more control over his desires. However, Beauty somehow bypassed all of his better instincts. Well, mind you, he didn’t have a whole lot of those to begin with, but he wasn’t that much of a dog usually, either. At least he’d like to think not.

Beauty emerged from the shower, bringing a waft of soap-scented steam with him.  
Indy groaned inwardly at the sight of exactly what he had been imagining, the sinewy goodness, the trail of hair. Loads of shallow cuts that Indy found himself dying to kiss to make them better.  
And nothing but a towel between Indy and the member of doom.  
“Well, pet, all clean?”  
“I’m afraid that I may have used up all the hot water.”  
No big deal, thought Indy, he had better take a nice, long, cold one himself anyway. Out loud he said: “Figures.”  
“I’m afraid my clothes are not salvageable. May I borrow some of yours?”  
“Help yourself, my stuff’s in the duffel over there.”

Indy pulled his feet off the table and got up in one fluid motion.  
Not that he was showing off or anything. And he had to stretch sometimes, didn’t he? Wasn’t his fault if his shirt was riding up as he did it, exposing a nice stretch of six pack as it did.  
He sauntered into the bathroom, stripped quickly and started to scrub the assorted jungle gunk off under the lukewarm water. Lukewarm was better than cold for removing the dirt, but for removing the unscratchable itch, he turned the hot water off completely in the end and stood gasping under the icy spray for a few minutes.

When he returned to the room, he almost laughed out loud at the sight of Beauty in a pair of his khaki pants, with a rumpled tan shirt and Beauty’s own powder blue tie clashing horribly with the rest of the ensemble.  
Cas was actually in the process of taking the tie off again, having apparently realized on his own that the effect left a lot to be desired.  
There was something so appealing about the sight that Indy closed the distance between them in three quick strides before he even realized he was moving and simply pressed his lips to Cas’.

The other man made a brief noise that sounded like protest, but when Indy started to let go, he grasped Indy’s shoulders tightly and pressed himself to the other man’s muscular frame.  
Indy deepened the kiss and let his tongue slide over the inside of Cas’ lower lip. He was rewarded by a low moan that travelled all the way down his body.  
He deftly maneuvered them over to the bed and started unbuttoning the tan shirt while he pushed Cas down on the mattress.  
He let his hands run over Cas’ chest, trying to avoid touching the cuts on his way to the other man’s nipples. Cas bucked up against him when Indy squeezed the hard nubs tightly.

Indy trailed a wet line of kisses across Cas’ cheek and jaw and whispered into his ear: “Still think we’re incompatible?”  
Cas opened his mouth to say something, when Indy’s hand found the bulge in Beauty’s pants and pressed down hard on it. The singer’s breath hitched and he gasped.  
Indy kept up the pressure.  
“I… I think that assessment may have been a bit… huh… ah… premature,” whispered Cas in a low, choked voice.  
“I think so, too. So, maybe you want to reserve judgment until we’re finished,” mumbled Indy while he freed Cas’ erection from his khaki pants.  
It felt a bit strange to ease the well-known buttons from the holes while the pants were worn by someone else.

Somewhere along the line, Indy had lost his towel. Not that he minded, it just made it very obvious to him that Cas needed to lose the rest of his clothes, too – and fast at that.  
He made short work of the pants and Cas was doing his best to wiggle out of the shirt.  
Finally, they were both naked and Indy briefly slid over to the side of the bed to grab the lube and condoms from his duffel, which conveniently enough had ended up right next to the bed.  
When he returned to his previous position, he took some time to look Beauty over head to toe. The man was just as scrumptious as Indy had imagined and the sight of him spread out on the bed, face flushed, lips slightly swollen already from the greedy kisses, was purely sexual and the lust-blown pupils did their wickedly arousing best to drive Indy completely insane.

Indy spread some lube over his fingers and bent down to kiss Cas.  
His hand was making its way slowly between Cas’ legs, towards the tight, hot hole. Cas spread his legs wider and moaned and writhed with pleasure. Indy gently rubbed more lube over the spot.  
Cas said something completely unintelligible that Indy took as encouragement. He slowly slid his finger inside Cas. The hot pull was unbelievably exciting. Indy’s finger was sucked deep into the velvety darkness and he crooked it to find the sweet spot that would make Cas scream with pleasure, if Indy did it right. Which apparently he did, if the stream of expletives pouring from Cas’ lips was any indication.

He slipped a second finger in, scissoring to widen Cas even further. Each time Indy hit the prostate, he was rewarded by a buck of Cas’ hips and the grinding of Beauty’s pelvic bones into Indy’s sizeable erection.  
Just when he thought he couldn’t take anticipation and sweet friction any longer, he was able to slide in a third finger and they were back in growl country. Man, Cas had one helluva sexy growl and Indy pulled his fingers out all at once just to see what would happen.  
What happened was another stream of expletives centering around the fact that Indy was a heartless, soulless, mannerless son of a bitch to leave Cas bereft like that.

Of course, Indy had no choice at all other than to push inside in one steady, long motion. He buried himself to the hilt inside of Cas’ hot goodness and started a slow, almost languid rhythm that all but tore Beauty to pieces. Indy clasped Cas’ dick in his deft hand and started to pleasure his man with steady, certain strokes.  
Cas made rough, needy noises and pushed himself down against Indy’s dick. It was the hottest sex Indy had ever had. Anywhere. With anyone. The immediate response to his actions was so deeply satisfying and at the same time so intensely encouraging that he just couldn’t keep it together any longer.  
To his immense satisfaction, Beauty followed him over the edge only a split second later.

They lay sated in a tangled heap of limbs and sheets.  
Indy lazily stroked Cas’ chest and buried his nose in the man’s hair.  
“What is going to happen now?” asked Cas in a sleepy voice.  
“Depends.”  
“On what, Indy?”  
“On what you want, on where you want to go. I’m gonna go to Jakarta and then fly back to the States. I got a riddle to solve. I can’t stick around in Java.”  
No use pussyfooting around the issue, right? No use pretending there might be a future for them.


End file.
